I moved to Massachusetts from Sedona, AZ in June 2018 to start a marijuana farm. Three years later, we are days away from our first sale.
A good friend challenged me to write the origin story of our business. This story is far from over, but I have a thesis about how we got to where we are.
People exist in narratives, and humans only make sense of the world with characters, and motives, and plots, and outcomes. But, I’m agnostic, and often more skeptical than that, about whether any of our stories are real.
Still, it is difficult for the mind not to create patterns and stories even where there is only chaos. But sometimes, the stories seem to force themselves into existence. Sometimes things seem meant to be.
With that disclaimer, I offer this short story that is an incomplete handful of cherry-picked events strung together. I don’t know how it ends. I hope you can relate.
Human agency mystifies me, but I posit that if you want to make things happen in the world, it is simple, and everyone knows what it takes: consistent good habits, practices, and behaviors and a good team bound by common values and a vision.
I’ll backup and start this story a little earlier. After the financial collapse in 2008, I moved to Sedona, AZ so that I could study ancient Japanese battlefield martial arts.
